Counting Sunsets

by Paul Gait

  ‘Well you don’t have to worry about that in my case, I have no family left, oh except a nephew, but I don’t even know where he is.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Yes, well all my friends are in Monaco, I doubt they will make the trip to visit me. Anyway, I’ve had my wake with them. I’ve said my goodbyes,’ Geoffery said unemotionally. ‘My father used to say; Son, you’ve either got money or friends. You don’t have both. How right he was.’

  ‘I’m sorry about earlier, but I was concerned about Mrs Jones that’s all,’ Andy continued apologetically. ‘They live in a council house. It isn’t suitable for the type of home care that Mr Jones needs. And as an older couple it’s doubly difficult.’

  ‘That’s very noble of you, but I’m afraid I have to look after number one.’

  ‘Yes of course you do.’

  ‘Well I’ll let you settle in and I’ll pop back later, Andy said. ‘In the meantime if you want anything please telephone reception. Alternatively if you have a medical emergency please press the panic button for immediate assistance. The doctor will be along later to establish your medication needs.’

  Andy left the room still angry that his careful plans for the Jones family had been overridden by monetary and not sympathetic considerations.

  After putting his few clothes into the wardrobe Geoffery wandered slowly into the garden and went to find the place where he had worked all those many years ago.

  He was pleased to see that the pergola he had built was still there and blended in well by Mother Nature.

  He sat on a bench and allowed himself a moment of reflective indulgence.

  He recalled the patient that used to watch him build it. What was his name? Jimmy, that was it, Jimmy. As soon as Geoffery arrived and put his tools down, the old fellow was there.

  Jimmy liked to talk. He had a broad ‘Glawster’ accent. The ‘West Country’ brogue was soft and gentle on the ear. Londoners often incorrectly labelled Gloucestrians as coming from Cornwall. Geoffery noticed that since he had been back in England his erudite businessspeak had all but disappeared. He now spoke again as a Cheltonian. It was an unconscious reaction to being home. As if he needed to fit in, to ingratiate himself with his old tribe.

  Jimmy used to tell him about his life. How he had been invalided out of the RAF because a plane had rolled over his foot.

  In spite of receiving a serious injury, poor Jimmy got laughter not sympathy when he told the story, because everybody could imagine him hopping around holding his foot and the mental picture it conjured up made it funny. Geoffery had laughed as well he recalled.

  Then the old man relayed his moments of fame in Amateur Dramatics, treading the boards, wearing the makeup, dressing up. He hoped to make the big time but never made it beyond the local village halls.

  How eventually he became a Union Convener for the mighty print Union. His chapter, he used to call it, was very militant. He confronted the Management many times on behalf of his ‘Brothers.’ He used to tell Geoffery that doing something for his ‘brother’ worker, was a very important part of his life, looking after his less able brethren.

  It all sounded too much like communism to Geoffery.

  The old fellow was also a Scout Leader or something or other in the Scouts as well.

  The dib dob brigade was not for Geoffery. He had joined in ridiculing the kids from his council estate who joined. Woggles and neckerchiefs were not for him; although he was envious when they told him of all the exciting things they got up to, canoeing, climbing and camping.

  How different Geoffery’s life had been. He had used all his energies on making his own fortune, not wasting his efforts on helping the masses. Look after number one was his motto and that’s what earned him his millions, by just looking after number one.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thursday September 18th – Sunset count 18

  ‘Andy, did you send Mrs Jones some flowers?’ Ann asked looking up from her report.

  ‘No, why would I send her flowers when I don’t even send them to my own wife.’

  ‘Well I know you’re a bit of a softie. So if you didn’t, I wonder who did. She’s just called to say thank us for sending her a beautiful bouquet. She seems to think they came from here. It had a card attached apologising for the delay in finding a bed.’

  ‘I bet I know where they’ve come from. Perhaps he’s got a conscience after all.’

  ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘Mr Geoffery Foster, your benefactor, the man who arrived yesterday.’

  ‘Yes that’s a point. I’d imagine in his healthier days he would have been quite an attentive suitor. Yes, quite a catch!’ she said giggling nervously.

  ‘Ha, just like I said. He thinks that money solves everything.’

  ‘It might not solve everything, but it certainly goes a long way to making life easier though doesn’t it?’

  ‘Does he really think it makes up for the extra angst he caused her?’

  ‘Listen Andy, it was not his fault. He didn’t know about our internal arrangements. Come on, this isn’t like you to bear a grudge.’

  ‘Yeah sorry, it’s just that I was made to look a fool.’

  ‘I appreciate you wanted to help the Jones family but you were out of order promising something which was beyond your control.’

  ‘Anyway I must go. I promised to take him around the gardens today,’ Andy said curtailing the dressing down.

  Andy entered the day room. His sensitivities smarting from being told off for being sympathetic to a family in need.

  ‘Do you still want to go around the gardens Mr Foster?’ He said stiffly.

  ‘I went on a brief excursion myself yesterday, but yes please,’ Geoffery said putting his paper down.

  ‘I assume it was you that sent those flowers to Mrs Jones?’

  ‘Yes. You pricked my conscience after what you said.’

  ‘Well apparently it made her day to think somebody was thinking of her,’ said Andy. ‘She thought the Hospice had sent them.’

  ‘You know, I haven’t sent flowers to a lady for a long time,’ Geoffery said, thinking back to the regular bouquet orders he used to send Nadine.

  ‘You can walk around the gardens but the grounds are quite big so you might like to use a wheelchair.’

  ‘Yes sounds like a good idea,’ Geoffery said moving into the wheelchair. ‘I was even more relieved to learn that a bed will be coming available earlier than expected for Mr Jones.’

  ‘I’m sorry if we got off to a bad start. It was just…’ Andy said awkwardly.

  ‘No need to apologise. You were right, I should have waited my turn. I could have booked into the hotel for a few more days.’

  As they moved from the day room into the garden Andy pulled a blanket over Geoffery’s shoulders.

  ‘I love seeing Mother Nature’s autumn finery. There’s a certain magic to it. The reds, the golds, the browns,’ Andy said, breathing in the season’s fragrances.

  ‘Yes I’ve missed the English autumns. The gardens are beautiful at this time of year aren’t they?’ said Geoffery taking in the scenery. ‘I guess it’s a big drain on resources to maintain the gardens like this.’

  ‘No, you’d be surprised. Like many things associated with the hospice it’s all done voluntarily.’

  ‘Really? Well they do a magnificent job,’ Geoffery said surveying the well-stocked rock garden. ‘Volunteers you say? I’m afraid you wouldn’t have caught me volunteering.’

  ‘Oh, why not? Surely part of belonging in a community is all about helping each other, caring for one another,’ Andy said, helping Geoffery on to one of the many donated garden benches.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Geoffery sitting down.

  ‘Unfortunately we live in a world where a lot of people expect something for nothing. There is an attitude that seems to be prevalent in today’s society where many believe that the state owes them a living, not that they have to go out and earn it; It’s always somebody else’s problem. People don�
��t take responsibility for themselves and their kids,’ Andy continued passionately.

  ‘Look after number one, that’s how I made my money,’ Geoffery said seriously ‘Getting off my backside and seizing the opportunities.’

  ‘What did you used to do?’ Andy quizzed.

  ‘I started off around here in the building trade when I was a teenager. My old man was a builder so I cottoned on quickly how to make money work. I bought an old place and did it up, I sold that, invested the money into a bigger one and then sold that. The next one I did up I converted into a block of flats. Of course there were lots of students around here in those days, so no shortage of takers. I just kept investing the money. Money grows money.’

  ‘So I’ve heard. I’ve never had enough to invest in the first place,’ Andy volunteered.

  ‘Started a property business, looking after other peoples buy for rent stuff. I had to do my own so it seemed a logical extension of that,’ Geoffery continued relating his path to his millions.

  ‘So how come you went abroad?’

  ‘Got into the tyre business. India and China were emerging. They’d improved the quality of the stuff they were producing, beyond the joke stage and were churning out saleable merchandise that I could sell over here for a good margin. Picked up the world distribution rights and the spondulies started rolling in.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘The Arabs were also a good contact; lots of oil money to spend. I started investing in Jewels, diamonds mainly, as a hedge against the fluctuating currencies and the ups and downs of gold. The rest is history, once you’ve got it, you invest wisely and it just keeps growing.’

  ‘I’m afraid my savings in the building society aren’t going to make me rich.’

  ‘No but with your family responsibilities, it’s probably the wisest thing to do with your money’.

  ‘Too much month left at the end of my pay packet that’s for sure,’ Andy said patting his pocket resignedly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Friday September 19th – Sunset count 19

  Geoffery checked the time on his Rolex Yachtmaster watch as Andy entered.

  ‘Late this morning Andy?’ he said, removing his reading glasses and laying the Times on the bed.

  ‘Yes sorry. My car broke down on the way here. It stopped suddenly, belching clouds of smoke. I think its terminal.’

  ‘Oh dear, do they have a hospice for cars?’ Geoffery joked.

  ‘In my case I think it’s the knacker’s yard. It couldn’t happen at a worse time. We’ve got little Molly’s christening on Sunday. Oh well, we’ll have to get a taxi that’s all.’

  ‘You could always use my car.’

  ‘Your car! Oh I couldn’t!’ Andy said, surprised at the offer.

  ‘Well the offer’s there if you want it,’ Geoffery repeated.

  ‘As much as I’d like to, we are not allowed to accept gifts from patients. Besides, I’d be scared to death to drive a fast car like that. What is it, a Mercedes?’

  ‘It’s a Mercedes CL63 AMG. I decided to treat myself to a sporty little coupe. It’s a parting gift to me to say goodbye to this life.’

  ‘Well that’s an interesting way of looking at it at least.’

  ‘There is a way around this gift restriction thing though,’ Geoffery suggested thoughtfully.

  ‘How?’

  ‘You’re allowed to take me out aren’t you?’

  ‘Well yes, but….’

  ‘So, you take me out on the day of the christening and use my car to get you there.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ Andy said not convincingly. He felt awkward after their earlier angst, but it would solve a big organizational headache, and save money he couldn’t afford to spend on a taxi.

  ‘The down side is you have to put up with me for the day, invite me to the Christening.’

  ‘Well that wouldn’t be a down side. That would be an honour. But I’m not sure?’

  ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Remember what I said about seizing opportunities?’

  ‘Well, it certainly would help. Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes perfectly.’

  ‘I’d need to run it past Helen, my wife, but it sounds great. Although there is one thing you should consider and you might want to change your mind. I won’t blame you if you withdraw your kind offer.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘We’re …the family…we’ve got a few rough diamonds coming. They’re OK but they tend to call a spade an ‘Effing shovel’.

  ‘Andy, don’t forget, I was a Cheltenham council house kid myself. I haven’t always had money. That will be OK. No problem.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you very much,’ Andy said beaming at this sudden change of luck.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sunday September 21st – Sunset count 21

  Geoffery Foster sat slumped in the passenger seat as Andy drove the white CL63 tentatively down the long sweeping drive of the former Country Mansion. Although Geoffery was not feeling a hundred percent, he was grateful for the change of scenery.

  The car made its way slowly through the avenue of trees flanking the road, almost stopping as it went over each tarmac hump, the traffic calming ‘sleeping policeman’.

  ‘You don’t need to slow down that much to hurdle those speed bumps. The Mercedes has great suspension,’ Geoffery instructed.

  ‘Well. OK, but I’m conscious that I’m driving somebody else’s very expensive car, I’d hate to damage it. You’d be surprised at the number of broken exhausts we get along this bit of road. Besides, I have to think of the comfort of my passenger, don’t I? We don’t want that pain pump line to come out now do we?’ Andy replied.

  ‘No I suppose not,’ Geoffery said, unconsciously putting his hand to the box, secured to his waist, which was intravenously delivering a preset rate of morphine.

  ‘Thank you for loaning me your car,’ Andy said gratefully. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?

  ‘Yes,’ said Geoffery unconvincingly.

  Andy looked across at the grey face of the man sitting beside him and wondered about the merit of continuing.

  ‘It needed to be driven,’ said Geoffery. ‘’She’s a thoroughbred; needs to be exercised.’

  ‘I don’t know what we’d have done without your kind generosity,’ Andy admitted.

  The car nosed its way through the ornamental gateposts and joined the traffic on the busy lane and headed towards Gloucester.

  ‘Where did you say the windscreen wiper switch was?’ asked Andy, randomly flicking switches on the stalk of the steering column.

  ‘It’s automatic,’ said Geoffery watching the rain streaking up the windscreen. ‘I hope this clears up soon, otherwise it’ll spoil your day.’

  ‘Weather forecast was good though. Lets hope it’s just a passing storm,’ Andy said, feeling very smug as pedestrians stopped and stared as the car passed them. ‘What a car,’ he said, running his hand lovingly over the steering wheel. ‘I’d never be able to afford something like this.’

  ‘Pennies and pounds’ Geoffery said remembering another one his father’s pieces of sagely advice. ‘Look after the pennies and the pounds will follow.’

  ‘Sorry, what did you say?’ asked a puzzled Andy.

  Unaware that he had actually spoken his thoughts, Geoffery, however, repeated it. ‘Something you might like to consider,’ Geoffery counselled. ‘Look after the pennies, invest them, and the pounds will follow.’

  ‘Unfortunately there are too many other family demands on my pay packet to be able to do anything like that,’ Andy admitted.

  As the Mercedes entered the former council estate, groups of women stopped their gossiping and stared.

  The car was out of place. Only drug dealers drove posh cars like that on to the estate.

  Geoffery started to feel uneasy about the area into which they had driven. Although he had been a council house kid many years before, the nostalgia of his own childhood, growing up on a council estate, no longer matched what he was see
ing. For after leaving the estate in his late teens, he had been leading a ‘sheltered life’ away from the cramped estate where everybody knew everybody else’s business. The pampered lifestyle he had led in Monaco had robbed him of his tough council kid veneer. He knew that entering places like this, in this sort of car, was asking for trouble.

  As they meandered deeper into the estate he felt more and more uncomfortable. It made him think he was entering a ghetto. He was expecting any minute to run into a barricade, or to be car jacked and be dragged out of his beautiful car and beaten up.

  Andy looked across at Geoffery, his growing anxiety evident by his frightened mannerisms.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s not as bad as the papers make out. It’s safe I can assure you.’

  Geoffery didn’t feel reassured by the Nurse’s words.

  Surely this was the very environment he’d read about in the English newspapers where feral youths dressed in hoods roamed the streets and mugged people for their mobile phones. Even worse, they beat people to death for just looking at them.

  Surely these were the same dull dwellings where the occupants abused themselves and their families and who spawned children who would go on to perpetuate the abuse.

  This was the very environment where young girls got themselves pregnant just to get a council house.

  Pregnancy gave them some element of self-esteem. Probably for the first time in their life they became ‘special’ and were recognised by society as being a person, a grown up, a mother, not just another worthless teenager.

  Sadly, many had never experienced a proper childhood before they themselves became an inadequate mother.

  Birth control was seldom used because with baby came a priority house and appropriate social benefits, sometimes with the boyfriend in tow, who then moved in rent free.

  Yes, they would all know how to milk the benefit system. With the exception of Andy and his family this was probably an estate full of spongers, leeches on society. Geoffery surmised.

  His apprehension increased even further as they drove deeper into the estate. A gang of hoodies on BMX bikes blocked the road, forcing them to stop briefly. The group was showing off to each other, doing kerb side acrobatics.